


The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief

by RainyDayz



Category: formula 1 - Fandom
Genre: Lavish Parties, M/M, Scottish Highlands, Stealing from the rich, alex is probably more than exasperated, and clumsy, but i say this with love, daniel chases, daniel knows exactly what he wants, general thievery, lando wears a lot of neon coloured clothes, living on cup noodles, max has no sense of fashion at all, max is certainly a bit dumb here, max runs, private castles, probably a lot more characters, probably more relationships too as we advance, rented aston martins, rented suits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 09:21:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30120609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyDayz/pseuds/RainyDayz
Summary: There's fuckery afoot.Max is a thief. His target; Daniel Ricciardo, and a small bag of uncut diamonds.Equipment: one rented Aston Martin Vantage (slightly scratched now but oh well), one rented suit (dark blue, itchy), a pair of glasses (uncomfortable).Destination: a private castle and a birthday party in the Scottish highlands.Surely nothing can go wrong? Surely Daniel won't remember Max, just another face in the crowd? And surely he would not turn over the entire continent of Europe  in order to find him?
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	The Robbed That Smiles, Steals Something From The Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome! 
> 
> I have a word of warning here at the very beginning: I'm NOT a thief by profession. I have never stolen a thing (except once, as a child, but that candy was already on the floor)  
> So, I don't really know how these sorts of happenings, well, happen. But if you do know, tell me and I'll see what I can do in the upcoming chapters ;)
> 
> Also, to whomever might need to hear this: this work is entirely fictional. Duh.

“Remember, once you’re in, we can only give you vague instructions. Most of the job will be on you.” 

Max rolled his eyes at the audible tension in Alex’s voice, slightly static through the tiny speaker planted somewhere in the temple of his glasses. Fake, to be fair, but real enough to have the beginnings of a headache already building behind his eyes. He had argued with Lando about using real lenses instead of just regular window glass, and had lost the argument magnificently.  
“Real glasses distort the view. If someone notices yours don’t - and we have to play it safe with this case - then you’re fucked on that front.” Lando had said, grinning smugly. “So, which will it be? Thorough, or half-assed?”  
Max had gone with thorough, even if it did make him feel more and more cross-eyed by the minute. He just hoped that they wouldn’t hinder him. 

“How’s the car?” Alex asked gently, and this time Max smiled. In order to blend in with the people their target surrounded himself with, he had had to rent a car far fancier than he could’ve ever owned. In fact, living in central London, it had been a while since Max had owned a car at all. Taking the Tube was just so much easier.  
“Perfect,” he said, drumming a short tune against the leather-covered steering wheel of the Aston Martin. It was impossible to tell that the car was a rental, and he assumed it was simply because of the model - and because of the fact that the sum he had had to pay for two days of use had been more than he cared to think. Every surface shone, polished to a tee, and the interior smelled like warm leather and what could only be described as money. The colour of the seats was a creamy white, and the seatbelts matched - he had never been in a car where the seatbelts were not black. Even the headrests were embossed with the winged logo of Aston Martin, the metal glimmering softly in the sun.  
“Don’t scratch it, then,” Alex warned, but his tone was amused. “We’ll have to buy it.”  
“And don’t tear the suit!” Lando’s voice, shrill in Max’s ear, piped in. “We’ll have to buy that too!”

Max snorted, glancing down at what he had generously called his ‘clown suit’ after picking it up from the shop. Alex had huffed at him in annoyance, mumbling something about a lack of sense and a terrible taste in fashion. Lando, on his part, had agreed with Max.  
It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate suits. He definitely appreciated how they made certain people look. Especially when said suits were tailored to exact measure. But Max wasn’t the type of guy to flaunt tailored outfits, and he definitely did not feel like the uncomfortably constricting pieces of fabric did anything to his looks. Alex had assured him he looked like a snack, but that had only worked to make Max flush red while Lando had snickered into his eleventh Capri Sun.  
“I won’t promise you two anything. If it comes to my life or this suit-“  
“It’s the SUIT.” Both Alex and Lando announced at once. “Sorry, man, but the suit and the car cost more than your - or our - life is worth.” Alex said, matter-of-fact.  
“Sad but true,” Lando’s voice chirped, and Max could imagine him, in his terrifyingly neon shirt and a bucket hat to match, perched on the table next to Alex and the laptops. 

“It’s good to hear how valuable I am to you,” he huffed, slowing down and entering a much narrower, sand-covered road while the car’s built-in GPS beeped at him. A slightly rusty sign welcomed him to the lands belonging to the Glenborrodale castle, and he let out a slow whistle at the seemingly endless road ahead. It was surrounded by ancient-looking trees, their gnarled branches twisting and turning as they grew upwards and created a green tunnel of sorts. Beyond them, he could see fields upon fields, bathed in golden sunlight. 

“Your signal shows you’re close,” Alex mumbled. “I know I’ve said this a thousand times now, but please do NOT answer us when we talk to you, unless there is an emergency.”  
“Alex,” Max said softly, grimacing when something creaked beneath the car. What a crappy road. “We’ve done this before. I’ve gone through shit much harder than infiltrating a party full of self-absorbed rich people. I know what to do.”  
“I know, and I’m not doubting that. It’s just that we really don’t know all that much about this Ricciardo. Everything is hearsay. This could potentially be incredibly dangerous.”  
“You’re right. What we know is, he prefers to have no security. However, I’m ready to bet an arm that he has at least a couple of goons dressed in normal clothes, ready to defend him if need be. But I’ll keep an eye out. Another thing is, there’s never cameras where he sets camp. I’m guessing that’s because his own businesses are better kept below the grid. But that works perfectly for us. So really, guys. Unless none of our sources are trustworthy anymore, I’ll be fine.”  
“Just promise that if it looks bad, you’ll turn back and leave without even trying.” Lando intervened. “It’s not worth it if there’s something going on we aren’t aware of.” 

Max held back from pointing out that everything about today was something they weren’t aware of. They had done their research, as thoroughly as they could, to make sure Max would be able to finish the job and not be tracked down later. It came as a surprise when they found out that their target, one Daniel Ricciardo, owned a castle in the Scottish highlands, and threw ridiculously lavish birthday parties every year. What had surprised them even more was the fact that the guest list changed yearly, save for a select few they had assumed were either family or close friends. Such parties were easy enough to attend; over two hundred people packed into one place, each a new face.  
Finding the invitation to copy had been a lot harder, but with connections and Lando pulling on strings he refused to elaborate on, Max had gotten his hands on one. A young man, Evan Taylor. The youngest son of a wealthy family. Something had happened to him, something that his family had wanted to keep under wraps, and he wasn’t able to attend after all. A perfect fit for Max, although he struggled to accept having to introduce himself as Evan. Of all names. 

“And we are absolutely sure that Daniel and Evan never met?” he asked, for the umpteenth time. He had wanted to create an identity out of thin air, but Alex had argued that it could always be traced down to nothing, and recreating the invitation was too risky. Had Evan Taylor not helpfully gotten himself killed, they would’ve had to try, but Alex had been glad that they didn’t.  
“Yes we’re sure, Maxy,” Lando answered. “I’ve done my job. They never met. Ricciardo’s never met over a half of his guests, and I’m willing to bet he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about them either. He just wants to party, and the easiest way to avoid possible enemies in high places is to wine and dine all of them.”  
Max grumbled, feeling uneasy. “I don’t look like a fucking Evan.”  
“Nope, but it’s your job to make them believe you do.” Lando laughed.  
“Max, aren’t you supposed to be there yet?” Alex chimed in, the frown audible in his voice. “The map says you’ve arrived.”  
“The hell I have!” Max gritted out, wincing at yet another creak from the bottom of the Aston Martin. He hoped the people at the rental place did not take too close a look beneath the returned cars. “It’s just this endless fucking road with trees around me.”  
Alex muttered something, too low for Max to hear. 

That’s when he saw the gates come into view, far ahead, the trees spreading out to surround what had to be the castle itself. It appeared like a mirage in a desert, suddenly and seemingly out of thin air. The gates were pushed open, and he could just make out a line of polished cars disappearing behind the ivy-covered walls.  
“Nevermind, I’m here. I won’t talk to you anymore until I’m out, but keep me posted.”  
“Of course. Remember, your window is an hour. In that time you need to locate the target, extract it, and take your leave. Try not to be noticed. Don’t engage in conversation, don’t break anything. And try not to run into Ricciardo.”  
“Yes mom.” Max hummed, and the line fell silent. He willed his erratic heartbeat to calm down as he drove through the gates, the castle suddenly looming in front of him in a massive pile of red-bricked towers and walls reaching towards the skies. The cars ahead were stopping in front of the main entrance, one by one, people clambering out in their Sunday-best, handing their keys to eager valets and climbing up the wide steps to the front doors. The doors were open, and even from a distance Max could hear the faint chatter of conversation and laughter. He took his place at the tail of the line, mapping out his surroundings as he waited for his turn. 

The entrance to the castle was a slight let-down. He wasn’t entirely sure he would call the place a ‘castle’, per se. More like an overgrown mansion. The building was old, its windows small according to the trends and necessities of architecture back when it had been built. The yard, however, was something else. An enormous fountain stood parallel to the gates, a siren carved from stone sitting atop it, holding a vase that poured down water in languid swirls. The road, covered in grey gravel, circled around the fountain, and continued somewhere behind the castle’s walls. The valets drove the cars there, and Max assumed there was a place for parking, hidden from view. His heartbeat picked up momentarily at the realisation that the only exit visible was through the gates; if he were to leave in a hurry, he’d have to make it to the gates, out in the open, or risk his chances with the surrounding wall. 

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

Stopping the car in front of the steps, he left the key to the ignition and waited the few agonising seconds until the valet pulled the door open for him. He flashed the man a small smile, straightening his lapels and checking that he still had the invite. Above him, at the doors, a sturdy-looking man in a black suit was checking the guests from what looked to be a multi-page list. 

“Evan Taylor,” Max said brightly, halting in front of the man. There was nothing to be doubtful of; he was Evan. A young man in his early twenties, with blonde hair styled to look carefree, and a blue suit to match his eyes. Max knew he screamed money from the tips of his hair to his toes; preparation was everything, and he could not afford to flunk a job by being cheap. Even if he would be eating cup noodles for at least half a year. 

The man did not smile until his eyes landed on the name. Max flashed the invitation for good measure, but was pleasantly surprised when the man simply waved it off.  
“Welcome, Mr.Taylor.”  
Max didn’t wait, the guests behind him already coming up the stairs, giggling amongst themselves. He stepped in to the warm air of the entrance hall, its floor chequered marble, two enormous staircases leading up to the other levels. The hall itself opened to three different directions; to both sides and straight to the front. There were people everywhere, buzzing around like bees, laughing and talking and looking every bit as rich as Max had anticipated. Dresses in every colour, suits more muted. Heels clicking against marble and wood, glasses clinking against each other. The air smelled vaguely of a parade of perfumes, just on the edge of being nauseating.  
“Entrance went well.” Alex’s voice came through. “To your left there’s a drawing room, to your front the dining room for the dinner later - which you will not be there to attend - and to your right the ballroom. Your best bet is upstairs in one of the private rooms, but don’t head there just yet. Would look a tad too suspicious.” 

Max started forward, across the hall. A waiter was approaching him, having emerged from what Alex said was the dining room. He was carrying a tray filled with champagne glasses, and Max offered him a smile as he took one. He could definitely get used to being served champagne this way.  
He let his eyes roam over the crowd, taking in the details. No one appeared to be security; no earpieces, no sunglasses, no standing still next to exits and frowning at passersby. No one looking like Max couldn’t take them in a fight. Most of the crowd was, surprisingly, older people. Maybe it really was true then; maybe Daniel Ricciardo was so sure of himself that he did not bother with armed employees. Or maybe he was just another rich idiot. One or the other, the whole job was starting to seem like child’s play. 

“Walk around a bit,” Alex said sharply. “If you stay still too long, someone’s going to talk to you. The point is to avoid conversation.”  
Max resisted the urge to snap at thin air, knowing it would be stupid and way too reckless, and that Alex would not let him live it down. Instead, he obeyed, choosing to enter the drawing room. He could hear music from the ballroom, and while he was aware it wasn’t the 1800s, he didn’t want to risk being asked to dance. 

The drawing room was as vast as the hall, littered with comfortable sofas and seats for people to rest on. The walls were covered in paintings, their eyes cast down and observing the guests. Their gaze felt like scrutiny to Max; as if they’d known why he had come, and disapproved. So, instead of looking at them, Max concentrated on the wallpaper. It was azure blue, matching the heavy carpet covering most of the floor, with swirls of lighter blues and silver mixed in. It fit well with the rest of the room’s decor; old and detailed. Someone had handled everything with the utmost care, preserving the castle’s history, and Max had to appreciate the effort. He loved history, and felt a pang of disappointment for not being able to visit such a place with honest intentions.  
He heard a low whistle in his ear as he turned towards the windows and the view beyond, and suppressed a grin by taking a sip of champagne. Really, most of their jobs offered far less grand opportunities, being instead hasty operations performed in the cover of night. Not that he wanted to spend three months of rent on fancy suits and gleaming new cars all that often. But, every once in a while, it was quite nice. 

“This might come off as the worst ever pick-up line,” a voice spoke, suddenly, making Max startle and whip his head to the side. A man was grinning at him, standing a few feet away. “But this room was absolutely made for you.”  
Max felt his face grow hot, while Alex’s frantic muttering filled his ear.  
“It’s him! Fuck fuck fuck, it’s Ricciardo, why the hell is he there? For fuck’s sake, Max get rid of him! Lando, didn’t your source say he doesn’t-“  
Max concentrated to cut off the noise, trying to appear less like someone out of his wits and more like an Evan who had just been blatantly flirted with. He could handle this; it was just a slight bump in the road.  
The man - Daniel Ricciardo - was still grinning, and Max failed to stop himself from looking him over. He looked, at the lack of a better adjective, expensive. His skin was tan and smooth, the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt popped open, the glimmer of a thin chain disappearing somewhere beneath. The suit had been cut to hug every inch of his lean body, and his hair, endearingly curly, fell over his forehead in what must’ve been carefully thought-out. His eyes crinkled while he smiled, and Max was sure he had never before seen eyes quite the same kind of brown.  
He flushed even more violently when Daniel’s grin turned into a full-on smirk. 

“I’m sorry?” Max blurted, willing himself to loosen the vice-like grip he had on his glass, before it would shatter in his hand.  
“I said this room was absolutely made for you.” Daniel repeated himself calmly, taking a step closer. He was still within a respectable distance, though, and Max was grateful; he was sure that from up close his heartbeat would be audible to everyone.  
“I don’t think I understand,” he managed to say. He cursed himself silently; he wasn’t usually so clumsy with social interaction. He had simply been shocked, to meet his target so abruptly. The plan had been, after all, to not run into Daniel at all.  
“Your eyes. And your suit, of course. Good choice,” Daniel hummed, tilting his head. “At the risk of sounding super cheesy,” he continued, “Your eyes are exactly the same blue as the room.”  
“Oh, thanks.” Max said, stupidly, and blinked at the frustrated groan coming from Alex.  
Daniel nodded. “You’re welcome.” He was still staring at Max, his head still slightly tilted, and Max let his eyes search his face, feverishly trying to come up with something to say. Something that would end the conversation. Something that would allow him to leave the situation without Daniel suspecting a thing. 

Then it clicked. 

“Oh!” he breathed out, his guard falling momentarily and revealing real surprise. “I’m so sorry! How rude of me. Happy birthday!” His hand came up of its own volition, landing on Daniel’s arm and squeezing. “I like this room, actually. You’ve kept it well.”  
Now why the FUCK did he have to add that? In his ear, Alex let out a litany of words wholly unsuitable for present company.  
Daniel’s eyes widened, just a tad, before he let out a laugh. His hand came to rest on Max’s, slowly patting it, and Max resisted the urge to flinch back. This was definitely not going well at all.  
“Thanks, and thanks. I’m surprised you recognised who I am.” 

It took a moment for the words to register, but as soon as they did Max felt himself go pale. Fuck. Could Evan Taylor have known who Daniel was, if Daniel didn’t know Evan? He tried to rack his brain for an explanation of where he could’ve seen a picture of the other man. He wasn’t exactly the kind to be featured in newspapers or other magazines, although there had to be something. Anything; an article, a fucking mug shot.  
“Evan has a sister,” Alex hissed. “It’s thin ice, but will have to do.”  
“I have a sister,” Max said quickly, schooling his face into a smile he hoped came across as confident. “She would kill me if she knew I told you this, but she has a massive crush on you. I think I’ve heard enough of your pretty brown eyes to recognise them anywhere.”  
“Pretty brown eyes?!” Alex breathed, sounding winded. Max could’ve also sworn he heard a distinct snort, possibly belonging to Lando. He knew that should he make it through the day in one piece, he’d have a storm waiting for him back in London.  
“Pretty brown eyes?” Daniel, unknowingly, repeated Alex’s question. Amusement twinkled in the depths of said eyes as he regarded Max, and Max finally pulled his hand away.  
“Yes, well. I suppose I can say that, too.”  
Daniel gave a small shrug. “Absolutely. But I think it isn’t fair that you know who I am, while I have no clue as to who you are. I’m the birthday boy, after all. I get what I want.” The wide grin was back, and Max found himself returning it.  
“And here I thought I had been invited because I was interesting,” he drawled, ignoring Alex’s frustrations. Max had never been very good at pretending to be something he really wasn’t, and a blushing kid who couldn’t flirt back was certainly not in his repertoire. “Was I just another name on a list?”

He felt smug at the way Daniel’s eyes blew wide.  
“I won’t lie,” Daniel said, bringing a hand to his heart in a dramatic gesture. “You were just another name to add to the list, but that was only because I didn’t know. I can’t say I’m sorry for inviting you, though. What I can say, is that had I known you before this wouldn’t be the first invitation.”  
“Well,” Max hummed, noticing from the corner of his eye a group of guests approaching them, no doubt on the lookout for Daniel, “That’s too bad.”  
With that, he stepped back, allowing the group to swarm the birthday hero, congratulations and cheers filling the air. They created a welcome wall of distraction between himself and the other man, and Max used the opportunity to ditch his glass and slip from the room. 

“Max I will fucking throttle you,” Alex raged as soon as he was back in the entrance hall. His voice was strained, but Max felt only a little bit sorry. The rest of him felt thrilled, electrified, at the added challenge to his task. He had managed to keep his false identity to himself, which did bring added security. On the other hand, he had certainly been noticed by the one person they had not counted on encountering. But he wasn’t going to be sorry for flirting. Daniel had certainly been pleasant enough to look at.  
Before Alex could reprimand him further, he glanced up and towards the stairs. Guests were already walking up and down, adventuring into the upper levels of the castle. Some were stood in pairs here and there, deep in conversation.  
Perfect.  
“Great,” Alex huffed. “We’ll talk about you later. I suppose you can go upstairs now without anyone paying attention.” 

Max made his way to the steps. He threw a subtle glance towards the drawing room doors, but there was no sign of Daniel. No doubt the rest of the guests in the room had also gathered to offer their congratulations, and if Daniel was any good as a host, he’d be held back for a good while.

The stairs were covered in a soft carpet of royal green, muffling his steps as he climbed up, keeping his pace relaxed enough so as not to raise suspicion. No one batted an eye as he passed, but he did feel slightly disgruntled at the sight of what had to be a dozen groups of chattering guests spread out in the second floor corridors.  
“Just slip through, start from the far end. There’s no one there.” Lando announced, and Max did as he was told. Again, no one paid the slightest attention to him, but he was uncomfortably aware of the fact that some couples had entered a few of the adjoining rooms to play out whatever fantasies they had arrived with. He hoped what he was looking for wouldn’t be in any of those rooms.  
“From what we’ve managed to gather,” Lando spoke again, sounding like he was eating something, rapidly munching through a bite, “Daniel’s own rooms are right there at the end and to the left. There should first be a drawing room, followed by the bedroom and whatever adjoining rooms there might be. The blueprint is unclear on that.”  
“I reckon a bathroom.” Alex said thoughtfully. 

Max dragged in a deep breath, forcing himself to look as natural as possible, striding down the corridor like he was meant to be there. Like he knew exactly what it was he was supposed to do, exactly which room he was supposed to enter. He had found that not many people questioned strangers for what they were about to do, if said strangers did what they did with confidence.  
Confidence had certainly never been an issue for Max. 

The last door to the left opened without struggle, and Max checked to see that no one was watching as he quietly slipped in, allowing the door to click shut behind him.  
A quick glance around the room told him he was alone. 

“I’m in the drawing room,” he said quietly. “It’s just like the rest of the place; everything’s old. I doubt he spends much of his time in this castle, save for throwing these parties.”  
“Probably not.” Lando agreed. “What I’ve heard of him, he has houses and mansions all over the place.”  
“Must be nice.” Max filed off the multitude of possibilities the room offered for hiding valuable belongings. There were three different drawers, all topped with marble and painted with gold. There were paintings on the walls; a classic trick for hiding smaller safes. There were nooks and crannies and plush pillows and little cabinets and an enormous grandfather clock. And it was only the drawing room - a pair of white double doors detailed with yet more gold on the opposite wall had to lead into the bedroom itself.  
“Is it common to have so many fucking drawing rooms?” Max asked, approaching the wall and slowly, painstakingly, beginning his journey around, lifting each painting to see whether they hid lockers behind them. “What are they even for?”  
“They used to be for entertaining guests,” Alex explained. “The drawing rooms in the main floor were for any guest, while the more private ones adjoined to the bedrooms were for closer friends and suitors as such.”  
“Why do you know this, Nerdmaster 9000?” Lando asked teasingly, and then screeched as Alex no doubt retaliated.  
“I see,” Max lifted the last painting, but found no safe. “Not behind the art.”  
“Try the drawers next. Do any of them have locks?”  
“One,” Max answered, but found the drawer not locked with a key. It slid open with a small creak, revealing its empty insides. “But it wasn’t locked.” He checked the rest of them, his frustration growing the longer it took.  
Nothing.  
“Guys, it’s really starting to look like he doesn’t even spend the night in here,” he complained, after opening the glass screen of the grandfather clock and fumbling through the insides. “Fuck all this.” 

“There might be another problem too,” Alex said nervously. “He might be looking for you.”  
“Why?” Max asked, proceeding to pat down every single ridiculously puffy throw-pillow he could find. “He doesn’t even know my name.”  
“That’s why, you ass. You had to flirt with him and then mysteriously disappear! If he had any interest in you for real, you’ve only managed to make it worse. What if he finds you in his ROOM of all places, after that show?”  
Max fought down the blush spreading across his face, having lost count of how many times a single person can turn red in less than an hour. “What are you suggesting?”  
“I’m suggesting that if he does indeed find you there, then play along.” Alex sounded uneasy. “Don’t make me spell it out to you.”  
“What?” Max huffed out a laugh, standing now in the middle of the room with his hair tousled, skin burning beneath the suffocating fabric of his suit. “Are you telling me to have sex with him if he finds me here?” He smirked at the sound of Lando bursting into laughter.  
“I’m not telling you to do anything!” Alex said tightly. “What I am saying is, if you get caught in his rooms, continue whatever game it was you started with him downstairs. If that means to hookup with him to get him off our tail then, what can I say. Except that you dug your own hole.”  
“Sure,” Max said airily. “Do you want me to place the glasses on the nightstand so you can watch?”  
Lando’s laughter grew in volume, while Alex spluttered something indecipherable.  
Max wanted to laugh, too, but his window was slowly closing, and he had yet to find anything to justify the whole ordeal. Their sources had been convincing in their claims that there would certainly be something to find, that there were things Daniel never travelled without. So far no luck, though. And he really would’ve preferred not to be found roaming through the host’s private rooms.

“I’m going to his bedroom, now.” He said, making his way to the double doors and slowly pushing them open.  
“Okay,” he grinned, after making sure no one was about to jump on him. “This looks more promising.” 

The bedroom certainly showed signs of Daniel having been around. Clothes were thrown haphazardly over the bed and across the back of an armchair, a half-read book waited on the nightstand with a pair of reading glasses perched on top, and an empty suitcase had been stuffed into a corner behind the closet. Headphones and an ancient iPod had been thrown on the pillow in a hurry, and a drying towel hung over the bathroom door.  
Somehow, the sight of the book and the reading glasses made Max stop for a heartbeat, something knotting itself tightly in his chest. He had no time to think about it, though, because right then Alex let out a loud, excited gasp. 

“There! The painting above the bed! It’s crooked, just a bit, look.”  
Max did, and Alex was right. He had to climb on the bed to reach it - certainly not a position he wished to be found in - but he managed to push the painting aside to reveal the door of a very small safe. It was the typical kind, a very general model that was simple enough to break into, if one just had the knowledge how to. Max supposed not many did, but silently thanked Daniel for not being more into the newer, nearly unbreakable safes that had been flooding the markets lately.  
“Okay boys, shut up,” he said, pressing his ear against the safe door and slowly turning the knob, here and there, listening to the telltale whirrs and clicks.  
There was a sense of relief washing over him, having found what he had come for, and knowing he could take his leave after. He had not had to tell his name to anyone save for the man at the door, and if he could just keep it that way, he’d be doing great. Of course, someone might question why he was leaving so early, but something convincing would pop up in his head. He had always had a knack for lying through his teeth. Besides, the plan was to leak information of Evan Taylor’s death a few days later, only to certain sources, but loud enough that it’d eventually reach Daniel too. That way, should he be tempted to ask after Max, he’d learn of his untimely passing. They wouldn’t speak of any specific dates, though, trusting that the family would only confirm it if asked, nothing more. Max did feel a little bad for using a real kid’s identity to make his own ends meet, but, it wasn’t like he had much choice. 

The safe clicked open, and Max peered in.  
A pile of papers, a sealed envelope, and two small pouches made of silky smooth, black velvet had been stored inside the wall. The things Daniel never travelled without - why, Max didn’t care. He reached in for one of the little bags, slowly opening it and pouring the contents onto his palm. 

“Bingo!” Lando cheered, as Max stared at the eight uncut, marble-sized diamonds resting against his skin. They’d lose some of their value after being cut, for sure, but the only way to sell them forward was to have them cut to shape.  
And anyway, even as such they’d be worth more than anything else Max had ever laid his eyes on.  
“Perfect!” Alex said brightly. “Do you want to take both bags?”  
Max’s eyes landed on the opened book.  
“Nah, let’s leave him something. Only fair.” He said, quickly stuffing the pouch into his breast pocket, before softly pushing the safe closed, sliding the painting over it. He left the frame just the tiniest bit crooked, exactly as he had found it. Just in case it would buy him any more time to disappear. Then he hopped down from the bed, carefully smoothing the covers again.  
“I will go down now, and get the car within the next five minutes. I’ll talk to you when I’m off the grounds.”  
“Copy.” 

Straightening his glasses and smoothing down his hair, Max checked over both rooms to make sure they looked exactly as they had before he had entered. Then he cracked open the door leading back to the corridor, making sure no one was facing his way as he exited the room and shut the door again.  
He could vaguely make out sounds of people really enjoying themselves in the other rooms, and swallowed a knowing smirk, nodding politely at the people placed here and there on his way. No one looked at him twice, only offering nods or small smiles back before getting back into their own little circles of gossip.  
Getting to the stairs, he let his eyes wander over the hall below, checking to see whether or not Daniel was around. He didn’t seem to be, and the hall was mostly empty anyway; the music in the ballroom had grown louder, as had the laughter and conversation.  
Delicious smells from the dining room had also begun wafting through the air, and Max realised that he was ridiculously hungry. A shame he wouldn’t be able to stay and eat, but the diamonds burned in his pocket and he knew loitering would be too risky. 

Descending the stairs, he kept an eye on the doorways, trying to look as natural as possible as he headed straight to the front doors. A lone couple was standing at the side of the steps as he exited the castle, caught in murmured conversation and looking like they had no idea Max was there at all. Which suited him perfectly. He waved a hand at one of the valets, seated on the edge of the siren’s fountain, and the man straightened immediately, approaching him.  
“Leaving already, sir?” he asked, although his voice betrayed that he truly could not care less.  
“Yes, thank you. Something has come up, unfortunately. Aston Martin Vantage.”  
The valet nodded, leaving Max to stand at the foot of the steps. He felt nervous, still, a tingling feeling that he knew would not subside before he was back home in London. He had grown accustomed to it, though, over the years, and knew how to keep it at bay so it wouldn’t hinder his work.  
“Can’t wait to get rid of these glasses as soon as I’m out of that gate,” he mumbled under his breath, receiving an annoyed shush for an answer.  
Waiting for the valet to bring round his car, he let the cooling air of the day brush through his hair, almost shivering at the change of temperature from the indoors. In the distance, over the vast fields, darker clouds had begun to gather, threatening rain and storm for the evening. He’d be driving at just the edge of it. 

Max couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit proud of himself. He had never gone through a job quite like this one, and while the time he had actually spent in the party had been less than a mere hour, he felt almost exhausted. He felt proud of Lando and Alex as well; had they not done their research as thoroughly as they had, drilling into the smallest details and comparing sources into the early hours of the morning, Max doubted he would’ve been able to locate the diamonds so fast. Perhaps he never would’ve. But they had aimed for precision, aimed for the window of an hour.  
And they had succeeded. 

Tyres rolling over the gravel alerted him to his car approaching, and he gave the valet his friendliest smile as the man climbed up from the front seat.  
“Great job, Maxy boy!” Lando chirped. “Now get in that car and get the hell out of there, please.”  
Max grabbed the door, ready to slide in, when the sensation of someone looking at him had him stop in his tracks. Lando’s questioning noise was drowned out by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. 

“Is that your car?” Daniel asked, and Max squeezed his eyes shut before quickly turning towards him.  
The diamonds weighed a ton in his pocket, and his heart beat erratically against his ribs, threatening to break out.  
“I-“  
Daniel whistled, coming down the few steps and smiling appreciatively. He stood so close Max could smell his cologne, small explosions like fireworks suddenly going off in his brain. His mind was short-circuiting rapidly.  
“You drive yourself?”  
Max blinked, fighting to bring his focus on the pair of brown eyes now looking at him. Searching his face.  
“Uh, yes. Yeah, I do. I like driving fast. I mean, I don’t like being driven.”  
Daniel nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, I can understand that.” There was something to his voice, something that to Max sounded like longing. Something melancholy. “But promise me you’ll drive safe, then?”  
What? “What?”  
Daniel’s smile turned into a grin. “Safe, I said. Fast or not, it would be a shame if you crashed. Way too beautiful for that sort of an end.” He tilted his head. “The car, I mean.”  
Max swallowed. “I promise.”  
“Good boy! Well, sad to see you go, Cinderella. It was nice meeting you.”  
Max shook his head, forcing out a laugh he hoped didn’t sound too pained, before grabbing the door and nearly falling into the car. He was sure he could’ve fainted, right then and there, and have Daniel find the blasted rocks while trying to bring him back to the living. Definitely not an ideal way to end a fucking heist. 

Before he could pull the door shut, Daniel’s hand shot forward and held it back. If Max let out an ungraceful squeal at the sudden movement, the other man didn’t react to it.  
“Actually, I really can’t let you leave without knowing your name.” Daniel huffed, smiling down at him sheepishly. “Call it my romantic side, but unless you leave me a shoe to find you with I just need to know.”  
Max nodded, trying to hide the fact his hands were shaking by squeezing the steering wheel as tightly as he could.  
“It’s Evan. Evan Taylor.”  
Something flashed across Daniel’s eyes, his smile widening. Then, after an agonisingly long moment, he let go of the door and squeezed Max’s shoulder.  
“Perfect! Thank you for that. Now, drive safe, darling.”  
Max nodded, and let out a long breath as soon as Daniel had pushed the door shut. He rounded the fountain, resisting the urge to see whether or not the man remained standing at the steps, looking after him. He felt like the closer he got to the gates, the more certain it was that they’d slam shut in front of him, effectively trapping him. He was sure Daniel knew. He had to know. Why the hell else would he have looked at him like that? Like he agreed with Max that the name Evan definitely did not suit him. Like he knew Max had his precious diamonds, but wanted to see just how far he would get with them.  
Like it was all just a fun little game. 

The gates did not close in front of him, and he drove past without trouble, heading down the narrow road, the castle growing smaller and smaller in his rearview mirror as he fought the urge to drive faster. He still had to think about returning the car, preferably without scratches or broken parts. Or instead of noodles he’d be dining on sleep for the unforeseeable future.  
“Well,” Lando’s voice rang from the glasses, crackling slightly as the upcoming storm messed with the connection.  
“We certainly have a problem in our hands.”


End file.
